Saturday, March 30, 2013

Do you know why it's hard to convince someone older that any young new band is worth their salt? It might be because there is a finite number of bands you can like. It could be five, or it could be five thousand. But, even if you dislike only one band, that finite number would be whatever the total amount of bands that ever existed is, minus one. What I'm getting that is that the older you are, the harder it is for a new band to enter your top 100, or 500, whatever the amount of bands is that you like. Your bullshit detector is more finely tuned, Every sub-genre has it's own version of new wave, and by that I mean watered down pap, and if you've listened to music actively for decades, you've seen several . Regardless of their originality, is this new band better than, say, Chuck Berry? Or even the Shaggs? That's another thing, speaking of the Shaggs. The Shaggs generally sucked as a band, but it was the package, their back story, their most awesome LP cover, even the title of the album, The Philosophy of the World. The big thing? They were authentic. That's one very important variable, practically mandatory for admittance into the Top (fill in the blank).

So, I heard this new band recently, the Maxines. A guitar/drums two piece. Holy Flat Duo Jets Mr. Airplane Man White Stripes Black Keys Batman! (Bullshit detector on standby.) Aw hell. I'm too lazy to be harsh tonight. So I'll just sit back and wonder exactly what the Maxines' first Cramps record was. And if they didn't own the No New York no wave compilation, how long it will be before one of their hipster friends shoves it at them.

Friday, March 29, 2013

Paul Williams, former editor of Crawdaddy! and author of twenty five books, passed away on Wednesday. He'd been in a nursing home, suffering from dementia (the result of a 1995 bicycle accident). You may not recognize his name but it's one you should know. When he put out the debut issue of Crawdaddy! in 1966, his intent was simple, to write about music intelligently. It's hard to put it into context, but try to imagine growing up in a world where you were expected to outgrow the music, when it was just a phase that teenagers go through. Kid stuff. Your destiny was wingtips and slacks. Ward Cleaver, Ozzie Nelson. Prior to Crawdaddy, any writing that covered pop music was either in teenybopper magazines, or sensationalized exposés from squares about hoodlum music this or that. It was Williams that let it be known that there were brains in rock music, and they would not go quietly.

In the past couple of days there's been quite a few profiles and obituaries posted online detailing his lengthy career and breadth of his contribution to writing and music (a few links below). I just wanted to hep you to an online archive of his earliest issues of Crawdaddy!.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Oh jeez. More Velvets. But there's some pre-Velvets Lou Reed things too, more than the Beachnuts and the Primitives stuff that's been widely circulated for years. Actually, these have all probably been all over the place, if you're in the Velvet Underground Next Level of Fiendom club. I am not. I'm in the That Looks Interesting, What the Hell club, where pretty much everything goes. There's just a few below, but there's a lot more at The Big O, twenty six in all. I don't need twenty six, but you might, if you're some kind of level two VU pledge.

Of the few I've listened to, the early favorite is "You're Driving Me Insane" by the Roughnecks, an early Lou Reed band of which I know nothing about. You ought to just go there and jut give them all a shot. Note: "Afterhours" by the Carol Lou Trio was written by another Lou Reed and is not related at all to the Lou Reed were talking about. Someone goofed somewhere.

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

I've got a lot of respect for Iggy Pop. He's made a career out of stirring things up, and he's put out some good records. But you know what? I'm thinking it may be time to close the book on him, or at least any notion that a reformed Stooges in any incarnation is going to be something relevant to pissing off parents. I gave the last one, The Weirdness, a shot when it came out in 2007. It had Ron Ashton on guitar, who was the guitarist on the first two Stooges LPs, the 1969 self titled debut, and Funhouse in 1970. Unfortunately, The Weirdness was not the awesomeness. It sucked. I got rid of it after a couple listens. Now they're back, with James Williamson on guitar. He was the guitarist on the third LP, Raw Power, released in 1973 (and credited to Iggy and the Stooges). Raw Power was a fine LP, albeit a little less challenging than the first two. Still, I was hoping for the best. I've only heard one song from the new incarnation (the LP isn't due out for weeks), and it's not bad. It does have a little punch. But at the end of the day, it just doesn't grab me like, say, "T.V. Eye". Here's the thing, they sound like a really great rock 'n' roll band, as good as any. But really good rock 'n' roll bands are a dime a dozen. Gimme danger...(No, that's just fucking wrong. That was so bad. Cheap. I feel filthy. That gimme danger thing was blogger two-word-zinger douchery at it's worst. "L.A. Blues" ought to take care of that.)

Monday, March 25, 2013

A few years ago I was checking out a bunch of random bands based solely on their names. Unfortunately, goofy band names were (and still are) the order of the day, so all I was running into was crappy lo-fi pop and electro this or that. I was actually in the mood for some meat and potatoes, loud and guitar based. I wasn't really asking for much. I ended up clicking on a song by Pissed Jeans, strictly because of their name. Yee-haw! I hit paydirt. They were just what I needed.

They have a new record out, so I started to go digging for updated bio stuff. I knew that they all have normal straight day jobs (the singer is an insurance broker), but little else. I'd never been to one of their shows, seen their crowd, or even talked about them to anyone, so I'd no clue what made them tick. Lyrics only help when they're intelligible, and theirs largely aren't. The recent interview I just read alluded to a predominantly male following in the past. That's a little disconcerting right there, but they aren't musically dainty so maybe that's to be expected. Nevertheless, I started to think, what if their lyrics and their whole mindset actually were a little fucked up? Okay, so that's the worst scenario, but when do I look into it? That's the conundrum.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

I haven't really paid much attention to shredding videos. You know what those are right? Music videos overdubbed with lame playing and singing. They're usually good for a chuckle, but not really post worthy. That is, until today. I was just alerted to two that are flat out hilarious. The first, "The Beach Boys' shred I Get Around" had me in stitches (as in giggling like a teenager who thinks they're clever). After I recovered, I saw a comment posted by my friend Ray (previously referred to here as "the guy who always finds cool shit on YouTube"). He suggested checking the StSanders YouTube channel. I wasn't prepared for what I was about to see. It's the funniest thing I've seen in ages. Note: If the video below is blocked in your country, try going to his YouTube channel and look for "Elvis Standup". (It might help to clear your history to get rid of existing
cookies.) Watch the whole thing because the last "verse" is not to be missed.

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Holy bloody hell. One minute I'm just rewatching a pancake eyed Leon Russell having a good ol time singing "Jambalaya" with Willie, Waylon and Doug Kershaw; the next minute I'm listening to Waylon solo, followed by Buck Owens, then Gram Parsons, and then to, of all people, Mike Nesmith. Actually, they all fit, which is why I revisited the Mike Nesmith cut. I wanted to remind myself how wide open the AM radio charts were back then. None of this strict genre format shit.

"Joanne" was a post-Monkees hit for Nesmith in 1970, and it was country rock. No, make that country, because there's nothing rock about it. It shared the charts with the Temptations, Mountain, Glen Campbell, the Delfonics, and John Lennon. You see where I'm going don't you? Before music videos, before the FM "free format" years, there was Boss Radio. Strictly hits. Shut up. So they were all hits, but guess what? No genre was necessarily ruled out. You became familiar with other types of music while you waited for one of your favorites. If the same group of artists were around today, what are the chances that, if you liked Mountain, you would even be exposed to the Delfinoics?

There's a reason why this song by Nesmith was a hit. It's a nearly perfect song, the whole lovesick plaintiff feel, the pedal steel, the phrasing, the high notes, and, holy shit, the lyrics; everything is just so fucking dead on. It is beautiful. There, I said it. (Where'd I put my goddamn unicorn?)

Thursday, March 21, 2013

This song is one that sucked me in the first time I heard it roughly six years ago, and it's one of the reasons I started this mess. Spread the Good Word posted it back then, and I linked to it as one of my very first posts. This is what I said then:

I am quite certain Al Garcia and the Rhythm Kings were hitting it before they recorded Exotic. I don't know anything about them, and I don't want to know anything about them. All I know is that they they make music sound drunk. At least on this song. And that's all I need to know. It is a spectacular achievement.

I pretty much stand by that, though now I do know a little more about them. Diddy Wah has the song, and a nice blurb about the song itself. Norton Records has an LP of theirs (available here), and speaking of Norton, here's something I ought to hep you to: They found a stash of reprints of the first issue of Kicks, Billy Miller and Miriam Linna's magazine, pre-Norton. Get one while you can. It's a good read, informative and funny, a testament, a shot across the bow. All that jazz, dad.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

I ran into U-Roy's "Natty Rebel" today. Holy shit. It didn't just sound good, it felt good. It felt like coming home. You probably have a few songs like that. Everybody has musical constants that follow them. U-Roy's one of mine. And boy, I sure don't have to go any further tonight. I'd already run ito the other three: Dillinger's "Cocaine" (for the umpteenth time), a smooth cut from Delroy
Wilson, and a Donna-less Althia (really, no idea if
it's the same Althia). Seemed as good a reason as any to pretend like the first day of spring is some sort of big deal. Cheer up east coast sad sacks, it'll be warmer before you know it. Said the warm west coast asshole.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

How do you get Reverend Beat Man people to think global? Slap on some stuff by Tuva's finest throat singing rockers Yat-Kha. Really, this seems like it's right out of the Beat Man's playbook. Just listen to his cover of J.B.'s "It's Man's, Man's, Man's World" (retitled "It's a Beat Man's World") and then Yat-Kha's cover of "Black Magic Woman". Hear the similarity? If you want more Beat Man, go here, here, and here. If you want more Yat-Kha, dig into the other cover, "When the Levee Breaks" below.

Monday, March 18, 2013

He was one piece of work, I tell you. In a good way. The homely looking guy up there got Miles Davis and John Lee Hooker together. Put Ry Cooder behind Jagger. And recorded some bad ass music of his own. Really, I don't have the time to go on about Jack Nitzsche right this minute. I just ran into his song, "Lower Califonia" and had to point you to it. (The third song below): Q: How to cram Pet Sounds into two minutes? A: Nitzsche did his best. Whether you hear it like that or not, the song is fucking amazing. There's so much there in just two short minutes.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

I just came back from the main drag down the street, which is all of three blocks long yet has a dozen bars. It's Saint Patrick's Day, which you'd think I would have noticed from all the people wearing green. But what I noticed first was the high percentage of shit-faced bar hoppers. In one block, three different people being held up by friends, and two cars pulled over. On one block. So, it seems it might be a little late for any sort of Irish music. Might as well get an early start on the hangover music. For my money, no one has done that better than the Martinis, a band that featured one Packy Axton, the son of Estelle Paxton (co-founder of Stax Records) who probably knew thing or two about hangovers. Despite his mother's role, and the fact that he was a member of the Mar-Keys, he was shown the door at Stax due to his partying ways. He died in 1974, reportedly from cirrhosis of the liver.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Maybe we were spoiled. No, not maybe, we were spoiled. In the early eighties, right about the time punk rock had it's hardcore afterbirth, a San Diego band called the Crawdaddys were playing around town offering another route to wild sounds, steeped particularly heavy in early sixties UK rave-up rhythm and blues shit, with none of the knucklehead pit nonsense. For a few years, they were the only real purist outfit playing around town, and being so, they had their own crowd, total diehards, and not all of them retro nazis. Many were just disenfranchised punk rockers that were just not that easily sucked in by hardcore, and wouldn't go near new wave. It retrospect, we were lucky, because not every scene had an, er, alternative, let alone one that was hard to find fault in.

After a few years, as the Crawdaddys were starting to peter out, another related scene was getting wheels. Mirroring the sixties chronologically, a garage scene developed, spearheaded by the Tell-Tale Hearts, a five piece band that included among its members Mike Stax, the former bassist of the Crawdaddys (now in the Loons and top dog at Ugly Things). Like the Crawdaddys, the Tell-Tale Hearts were more fiendish about period nuances than you or I have the patience for, both musically and visually, and they were good, really good. There were others, namely the Gravedigger V, and later the Morlochs, but the Tell-Tale Hearts really got the whole thing rolling, and they were the real detail freaks.

I ran across a couple live LPs and there's a good chance that these may not pop up again. Put out by an Australian label, they both had an initial run of only 500 pressed. So, take the single songs for a test run. If you dig them,...you know the rest.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

One word into the song...holy fucking phew! This is how you hook an audience. Otis Rush gets one song to make an impression and he makes the most of it. Four musicians, one song...alas, an audience full of zombies. So this is what happens at those alcohol free events.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Get a drink. Turn it up. Go full screen. When Albums Ruled the World, BBC 2013. It's an hour and a half long and you need to see it. Follow it with one of your favorite LPs. There's a night well spent.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

What other band could share a bill with X on one night and Carl Perkins and Willie Dixon on another? It might happen these days at one of those festivals with wildly varied bills, but in 1982? You pea greens might not see what the fuss was about, and the video below, good as it is, doesn't do the Blasters justice. I saw the Blasters often back then and I'm here to tell you that they were one of the best live bands I've seen, before or since, big venue or small. They fucking brought it.

I remember one show in particular, like it happened last week. I'd been up front for the first part of the set, and decided to move to the rear of the hall, a small club, to drink it all in. I turned around. The communal joy in the room just hit me smack dab in the face. I was literally almost breathless, getting chills and all of that. I was lucky enough to have that moment, and straight enough to recognize how special it was. It was all rock 'n' roll. One hundred percent good old fashioned rock 'n' roll.

Here's what I could find floating around online. Very few mp3s out there, damn shame that is. I highly recommend you check the video above, and the post at Beware of the Blog, Songs We Taught the Blasters [sic], a collection of original versions of songs the Blasters have covered.

Monday, March 11, 2013

I bought my first Wilco album yesterday. Yep, you read that right. Despite being cognizant of their alleged greatness, the band that everybody seems to drool over has just now crept into the pile. Though I've heard their music serendipitously for quite a while, and I did have a cassette of that Mermaid Avenue thing they did with Billy Bragg (courtesy of a very good friend), being a cassette you can guess how long ago that was. I probably didn't give it much of a chance. Regardless, what I think of their music isn't really all that important. It just made me think about what makes someone pick out something, and why they put off checking out this band or that.

By the time you've been exposed to all sorts of types of music, you may not necessarily be jaded, you're usually just a little older. Picking up a title of some band that's being raved about loses its urgency. And that urgency lessens the longer the band is around and the bigger their back catalog gets. You realize that their stuff will be in print for a while, and used stuff will be plentiful, so there's no big worry about missing out on anything. (To wit, I've owned only one Led Zepplin LP, despite seeing them live in their prime. Their music was inescapable then, and I knew that would be the case for some time. Ho hum, I'll get to them.)

So what made me succumb yesterday? It was cheap, that's part of it. I left the record store with four LPs and two CDs for fifteen bucks. (99 cent bins are your friend.) But the real reason is because the son of some friends of mine just made his first parent-less trip to L.A. to see a band, Wilco, a few weeks ago. It's a rite of passage for teenagers in San Diego, something I went through, as did most of my friends. (A lot of bands skip San Diego and just play L.A., two hours to the north.) What made this kid's trip special is that, not only do I remember when he was born, I remember when his parents first met roughly twenty years ago, just feet from where I'm sitting right now. They're like family. That's the cool part. I bought it because the kid digs Wilco. I'll always have that association. Don't ask what my priorities are, I'm always be late to the party anyway.

NOTE: Reoh, the hero of our story, has Cystic Fibrosis. So does his brother Thor. I'd be remiss if I didn't take this opportunity to encourage you to visit the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. Skip your lattes and send them a check instead.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Try as I might not to take the bait whenever there's ballywho about some new hot shit band, I gotta bend this time because something good may come out of this one. The Strypes are a band from the Ireland that pretty much do the same sort of material, in the same manner that the Stones and other UK bands were doing in the early sixties, namely taking blues and R & B classics and pumping a little juice into them. They do a pretty decent job too, sounds kind of like the Hives doing the Stones. They're average age is sixteen. Yeah. That kind of bugs.

I could take two tacks here. One would be to bemoan the fact that it's been done before, and again, and again. The Stones and their ilk got their start playing their own souped up version of their musical heroes' music, right? Well, aren't these kids doing the same thing? Or is it a bigger crime to copy the copiers? You tell me. There's been an awful lot of bands in between the two that showed a particular reverence for that sound, so as far as copycat finger pointing goes, I'll pass. I gots but ten fingers.

The positive? When it all comes down to it, they are in fact a boy band. How is that a positive? I'd like to think that despite what all us seasoned know-it-alls may think of them, in a perfect world this is the sort of band that could change what teenyboppers listen to, and kill all that vapid shit. They could do just what the Stones did, get some of them to actually check out the source material. Nah, it'll never happen. You know it won't. It sounds too much like a script of one of those feel good movies.

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Okay, so a feature length movie that has among its cast Mick Collins, Iggy Pop, Nathaniel Mayer, Tav Falco, Cordell Jackson and Cub Koda. If most of those names don't mean anything to you, you're probably thinking "So what?" If, however, you recognize most of those names, you're probably thinking the same thing I am. Why haven't I heard about this movie? That's a cast that Jim Jarmusch would envy, every one a music figure, all from different genres. (If you're not familiar with most of them, they all have their own Wikipedia entries, so they're not all that obscure. You might just have a shitty record collection.) The movie's called Wayne County Ramblin', and does not appear to have anything to do with the singer Wayne County (or Jayne County). It could, I've never seen it. (Trailer is here.)

Rather than post music from each of these artists, I'll limit it to the Gories, because it's their fault that I got sidetracked. (Actually, most of those artists haven't been posted before, so I can milk that list for future posts, said the guy who's too lazy to dig around for that many artists in one night.) This post was supposed to be about them, but the video above is what led me to the film, because it was done by the same guy, Dan Rose. And here we are, an hour or so later. It being Saturday, elaboration is taking the night off.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

When I got home a few hours ago, I had no idea who Sharon Cash was. Checked the mail, put on some coffee, still didn't know who she was. Did a few other things, and so on. Now, I know who Sharon Cash is, and it's not likely I'll forget. Here we go again.

Cash's cover of "Fever" has it all. Fuzz, deep bass, congas, horns and her incredible voice. It's one of those songs that, if you're the type that passes through here, you'll want to hear. I do know it has the Mystery Suggester and Lady Spinstah written all over it. One of many nice surprises at at De Discos y Monstruos. One last thing. Do check out her version of "Nature Boy". Holy shit, it's a monster. Listen to the whole thing, really, because this sucker builds. It sounds like Shirley Bassey doing a five minute Isaac Hayes stretch, but it's not. It's Sharon Cash. Give up your seat, she's a lady.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Alvin Lee died today. He was the guitarist and lead vocalist of Ten Years After, probably best known for the over indulgent vocal and guitar solo interlude in the song "I'm Going Home", as seen in the film Woodstock. Looking at it nowadays, it's a little hard not to roll the eyes, but back then, long solos were the order of the day. Lee was just out there trying to out jack-off the other guitarist jack-offs. But it was a good solo, in all of it's imperfect glory, if only because it's always been an icon of the over indulgent solo era. But let's get past that.

The thing that hits me, watching that clip all these years later, is how much part of it reminds me of Lux Interior. Doubt me? Listen to it (you don't need to watch), starting st 3:55, for a minute or so. I half expected Interior's ol' mic-in-mouth routine. Not that that's neccessarily a plus, I just found it interesting.

One thing that bugs me is the first two lines of their biggest hit, "I'd Love to Change the World". I've looked around online and can't find an interview, or even editorial content, addressing the juxtaposition of the songs title and the first line: "Everywhere is freaks and
hairies, dykes
and fairies;
Tell me where is sanity?" What gives? Then the following: "Tax the rich, feed the
poor, till there are
no rich no more. I'd love to change the
world - but I don't
know what to do,
So I'll leave it up to
you." Okay, so how come no one's ever asked what that mumbo jumbo is supposed to mean? I suppose someone has. Let me know if you know.

Let's give Lee the benefit of the doubt and hope there was some irony in some of that. When you look at it in hindsight, Ten Years After had a pretty decent run of FM radio type blues rock semi-hits. I'm clueless about Lee's later solo stuff, but make no mistake, back in the day, this was USDA Choice air guitar meat. And if that's not the stupidest fucking thing I've typed all night, I don't know what is.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Aw, what the hell. Thanks to some sort of stats widget that I rarely look at, I noticed among other things that Malaysia is in the house. I don't know how many people in Malaysia actually pass through here, but judging by the page views, it may very well be just one person trolling for freebies. Regardless, I thought I'd tip my hat inna Hee-Haw stylee ("Sal-ute!"), and post some Malaysian stuff. And when I'm looking for oddball international stuff, there's one place I always start, Radiodiffusion International.

This little excursion paid for itself with the first two, a couple fuzz drenched quasi-surf instrumentals by Band De-Fictions (which you will note by the sleeve are in "stereomono", whatever the hell that is). The rest are almost as interesting as the sleeves (that's saying something), and there's quite a few of them over there. Some just have their moments (you'll have to check out "Cha-Cha Dracula", there's a vocal inflection at :53 that is universal in it's WTF-ness), but all are worthwhile if you're the sort of person who doesn't limit their listening to hipster jive.

Hey, if the person(s) from Malaysia that has been visiting here actually sees this, leave a comment and let us know what's hot shit over there nowadays. We're admittedly ignorant of any current Malaysian stuff.

Monday, March 4, 2013

Every band has at least one guy who just won't tow the line, not forever anyways, who never read the mission statement. When that person happens to be the brains behind the operation, the main songwriter, and a founding member, the post-break up shake can be telling. When the Specials broke up in the early eighties, you had two separate camps, the Fun Boy Three and Special AKA. I don't want to get into a long thing about the differences, and which one I thought sucked, but Special AKA had Jerry Dammers, and that's when I started paying attention. Dammers has always been the most interesting ex-Special, his most recent combo, Jerry Dammers' Spatial AKA Orchestra, is his most challenging; heavily influenced by the Sun Ra Arkestra, which is to say other worldly and weird. And that makes more sense to me than the reunited Specials (still touring) playing their songbook from thirty years ago. It the battle of weird versus nostalgia, weird wins every time.

I've posted about Dammers and the Spatial AKA Orchestra before, but I just ran into a couple mp3s which weren't online the last time. In fact, these are the first I've been able to find at all. I don't think the band has ever recorded, and Dammers' site doesn't mention any releases. These were ripped from a Jools Holland appearance, and having been recorded in a TV studio, they're pretty clean.

Saturday, March 2, 2013

Ever heard of the Deverons? Me neither, until about an hour ago. They were a Canadian band, that had among it's members Burton Cummings, who would end up in the Guess Who. Their song "She's My Lover" is a mid-sixties garage song, but judging by the photo above I think it's safe to say they lacked that sort of badassry that some of their U.S. contemporaries had going on. Though that might not be the reason you or I have never heard of them. Truth is, they sound like they're winding down for the night. There's that little energy going on. In fact, it's an energy zapper, it will rob you. But I dig the guitar solo, not because it's good, but because it sounds kind of fucked up, like the guy is just learning how to bend notes. (I'd like to imagine it a very young Robert Quinne just learning to screw with things.) You'll probably hear something completely different. You may hate it, but there's another Canadian thing down there that's an up tempo rave-up with some neat bass and lots of fuzz. It's by the wimply named The Passing Fancy. It sounds like they can't decide if they want to be the Yardbirds or the early Beatles. Both are on an old post at Detailed Twang, which you should check out. There's a lot more good stuff. Get your moose on.

Friday, March 1, 2013

It's done folks. It's been merchandised and marketed, misused, and misunderstood, and it is done. Dead as a door nail. Believe me, if you're younger, whatever it is that you think is punk rock is, it's just a way to sell patches, buttons and black clothes. (As my Dad said to me back in the day, "Oh, I get it. You're just being different together.") So, you want some proof? How about robots playing the Ramones? Or Malcolm McLaren and Vivien Westwood's punk rock get-ups in the collection of the Costume Institute of the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art?

Here's what bugs me other than the punk rock angle. (Which really doesn't get me all that worked up. I just like shooting my mouth off.). Just looking at the complexity of the Ramones playing robots, you know it took an awful lot of time, money and know- how to create, program, set up, and all that jazz. What could the creators have done more effectively with less time and effort? That's right. They could have actually picked up a guitar and learned three chords.

As for the McLaren/Westwood collection, check this article to read about the factual errors that were included. Here's what bugs me about that: They were pretty glaring. Anyone who knows a little more than average about UK punk rock of that era would catch these errors. That doesn't bug me as much as it does thinking about what other factual errors might exist in the museum. Picasso and Banksy were pals. True story. Done and done.

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